


Blood and Salt

by OatMilkLatte



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelward Established Relationship, Alpha Cedric, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, But Tom isnt the one getting raped, Evil Dumbledore Family, Humiliation, I Don't Even Know, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Masturbation, Omega Harry Potter, One Shot, Onesided Cedric/Harry, PLEASE READ TAGS, Poor Harry Potter, Sort Of, Soulmates, The Deathly Hallows, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning, Tom being creepy, Tom is only eleven, duh - Freeform, dumbledore adopts tom, sexual content involving a minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OatMilkLatte/pseuds/OatMilkLatte
Summary: When Harry accepted an invitation to party at professor Dumbledore's place, he didn't expect to end up unconscious, naked, drenched in blood, having lost faith in everything he ever believed in, all in the span of four days.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum
Comments: 7
Kudos: 133





	Blood and Salt

Harry was admiring the beautiful landscape from the height of his broom at what he considered a leisurely pace, when he got the tickling sensation of someone following him. His follower trailed at his tail almost flirtatiously af first, before angling for a way to overcut him. Harry looked back and was greeted by the smiling face of one of Viktor Krum’s friends, whose name was something along the lines of Ivan. The familiar hint of desire in the heavy-set Alpha’s smile told Harry this was more than the invitation to a friendly match.

Does any random Alpha think they can beat him on a broom? Harry scoffed internally. Squeezing the Firebolt between his thighs, the raven haired teen pushed off like a gust of wind. Other spectators on their brooms craned their necks in amazement at the flash of crimson cutting through the air. Harry’s pursuer, recovering quickly from his shock, rose to the challenge. The Alpha hugged his broom closely and shot straight after Harry. But the crimson figure flitted across the open sky as if gravity had no sway over him, while the Alpha followed with as much grace as a sledgehammer. Spectators smirked at the Alpha’s inevitable failure, though the Alpha himself was too caught up in the chase to mind his own embarrassment.

Harry had taunted many Alphas in his Hogwarts days. Being who he was, with what Snape called “shocking arrogance and an unwarranted sense of superiority”, Harry left many Alphas picking up their shattered oversized egos in the aftermath of their encounters. This particular Alpha, Harry noticed as he glanced backwards, was gritting his teeth with a murderous expression on his face.

“Tea’s served, my friends” Dumbledore’s joyous voice boomed under a Sonorous spell “I hope you enjoy pineapple crystals, they appear to be all the fad this season.”

At their host’s beckoning, the dozen visitors on their broomsticks began flying back. Harry swerved, drawing an elegant loop with the tail of his broom, and joined the crowd. He didn’t spare the seething Alpha a second glance as he passed him.

Harry landed quietly on grass as soft as velvet duvets. A large round table had been set in the middle of a lively garden of orange trees, presenting a dazzling banquet of desserts displayed in a variety of shapes from pointy towers to Ferris wheels. Harry walked over to an empty seat next to Hermione, who had braided her hair and wore a strawberry colored dress. The water fountain behind them splashed a thin fog of cool vapor on his back, and Harry felt the tension of the broom chase bleed from his body.

Harry thought of the vast estate he just toured from his broom. In all his years at Hogwarts, he never imagined Professor Dumbledore to be so absurdly rich. Sitting across from Hermione, Dumbledore was sucking shamelessly on a piece of pineapple crystal, luscious auburn hair and gold threaded robes glowing brilliantly in the bright afternoon sun.

All the guests had taken their seats by now. Krum sat by Hermione’s right, and the sullen-faced Alpha who had lost the chase wisely picked a spot far away from Harry. In the meantime, Harry tried not to look too uncomfortable surrounded by all those unfamiliar luxuries.

“Harry, my boy, was quite a sight to behold on his broom, was he not?” Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling with mirth. Harry sat up straighter in the petite wrought iron chair.

“Harry was the youngest chaser Hogwarts ever had” Hermione quickly added “Never lost a match in his life.”

“Indeed” Krum said “Have you thought about vat you vill do now that you’ve graduated, Harry?”

To his right, Cedric gave Harry an encouraging look.

“I plan to play Quidditch professionally.” Harry announced. A soft murmur fell over the table, some in surprise, others in puzzlement. Emerald eyes met all the inquiring and curious looks unflinchingly, guarding their owner’s pride.

“Well, it won’t make you the first Omega in history to go pro,” The officer for the department of magical games and sports remarked, sipping her tea, “but you might be the first to actually excel at it.”

This brought about a round of endorsements from the table, to all of which Harry replied graciously. Harry snuck a grateful nod at Dumbledore when the conversation later derailed into a bickering match between the English and Bulgarian players. He would be foolish to think that the good number of professional players, team coaches and Ministry officers present were invited to the same party by pure coincidence. A connection-less orphan and an Omega, Harry needed friends in the right places before the Alpha patrons of the sports bite his head off for daring to intrude upon their territory.

“Hermione, I couldn’t help but notice,” Cedric asked curiously “is that a diamond ring around your finger?”

The witch blushed beautifully, her hand naturally finding its place around Krum’s arm.

“Viktor and I actually have an announcement to make. Viktor proposed last week, and we are officially engaged.”

Everyone immediately fawned over the young couple, demanding a better look at the ring and more details about the proposal. Was it romantic? Any plans for the wedding yet? Harry of course, knew about this development beforehand. He smiled at the look of happiness on his best friend’s face, but deep inside he felt a pang of bitterness. If only he were a Beta as well, he would be able to build a family of his own based on a relationship of mutual trust and affection. But his life was destined to be an endless battle against the grips of heat, with sweet pheromones and looks of contempt clinging to his skin.

Harry decided against a second treacle tart, unwilling to give power to the stereotype that Omegas are obsessed with sweets, when something drew his eyes and turned his head backwards. He saw a young boy walk up from a winding trail in the woods. He couldn’t have been older than eleven years old, for Harry knew for certain they had never met in Hogwarts. The boy wore a white shirt along with pitch black shorts, socks, and leather shoes. Against the lush greeneries, he looked like a silhouette cut out of a black and white movie. The boy’s grey eyes caught Harry’s gaze, and stared back with an intensity like tiny hooks latching onto the muscle of his heart.

Beside the scent of fresh tangerines and vanilla in the air, Harry tasted something metallic and bloody. It couldn’t have been possible for him to smell anyone, let alone an unpresented child, for Harry made one hundred percent certain he had taken his dose of blockers and suppressants this morning. When Harry’s hand flew to his mouth in panic, he realized that he had bitten into his tongue.

By now all the guests had taken notice of the boy. Looks began flying between Dumbledore and the boy curiously, asking the unspoken question on everyone’s mind: Could the newly instated Headmaster of Hogwarts have a secret son tucked away? Dumbledore seemed just about the right age to be the parent of a young child, after all.

“Ah, Bella, Tom. Glad you decided to join us. Come have a seat.”

Harry didn’t see the woman behind the boy until then, though she was certainly not the type to be easily overlooked. She had thick wavy black hair and heavy-hooded eyes that looked at almost everything with a disinterested scorn. Harry found a striking resemblance in her sculpted features to that of his Godfather, and knew this must be the infamous Bellatrix Black, who Sirius made an effort to avoid on every social occasion.

Acknowledging their host with a graceful nod, Bellatrix took an empty seat and exchanged pleasantries with some people she recognized. Tom, however, had not stopped looking at Harry.

“I’d like to sit next to him.”

With a tremor, Harry realized Tom was pointing at him. If he weren’t so transfixed by the boy’s grey eyes, a light shade of silver where the light caught them, he would notice a strange look cross Dumbledore‘s face fleetingly.

“Very well.”

At the tap of Dumbledore’s wand, a tall beige chair appeared to Harry’s left, standing between him and Cedric. Tom walked over to the newly available spot while maintaining an almost tangible gaze on the raven haired man. With a little push off the ground from the tip of his toes, Tom hopped onto the chair, and extended a hand to Harry.

“My name is Tom Riddle. I live here.” The boyish voice enunciated clearly.

Harry felt the racing of his heart slowly begin to recede. Up close, he saw that Tom had an angelic face, with still a pinch of baby fat in those cheeks. Even Tom’s voice sounded pleasant, like the delicate vibrations of a string instrument. Perhaps Harry was merely shocked to see a boy he’d never met before at Dumbledore’s house, for nothing else could explain why he had been nearly petrified in his presence. Harry wiped his hand on his trousers inconspicuously, then took the smaller hand in his.

“Harry Potter. I am– was, one of Professor Dumbledore’s students.”

Tom’s features melted into a lovely smile. “I saw you fly all the way from the shooting range. I thought it was one of the phoenix at first.”

Harry felt a sudden warmth in his cheeks. Before he could respond, the horde of prying guests stole Tom away with an urgent line of questioning.

“Riddle? Can’t say I know of any wizarding fellow with that surname?”

“Don’t mind this one, boy, he’s just disappointed it wasn’t ‘Dumbledore’.”

“I never knew my parents. Albus adopted me.” Tom replied coolly, and Harry felt a violent tug of empathy in his chest.

Around the table, mouths glued shut and swallowed what they were about to say. At the sudden silence that fell over his guests, Dumbledore smiled, “You must forgive my reticence on this subject. Tom doesn’t enjoy gossips. He prefers to avoid being known as the Headmaster’s son once he starts Hogwarts in a month or so, which leaves me burning curiosity at which delectable dessert managed to lure him out today to socialize.”

“I’ve no idea what you mean” Tom said, arching an eyebrow, “I can tell everyone at Hogwarts who my father is if you want to suffer the gossips.”

Harry couldn’t help but feel like there was an underlying subtlety to the conversation he was not getting. To avoid gawking at the (adopted) father and son pair like everyone else, he pondered the enigma of Tom Riddle silently to himself, and before he knew it, he had absentmindedly shoved another treacle tart into his mouth.

******************************

Early next morning, the sky looked purple like a grape, fading into a bright silver near the horizon where the sun threatened to poke out its head. It was silver like Tom’s eyes. Dismissing thoughts of the boy from his head, Harry rolled out of bed with a grunt. Before anything else, Harry performed his morning ritual by summoning two potions vials for his little Omega problem. He downed them in quick gulps, knowing that the nauseating taste would be more bearable this way.

Harry wounded through the richly decorated corridors and stepped outside of the manor clad in grey sportwear. The morning air was crisp and the grass felt dewy underneath his feet as he started jogging towards the Quidditch field. He had made morning workouts a habit back when he was named captain of the Gryffindor team. Harry ran through the woods, with only the rhythmic sound of his breathing keeping him company. Soon, a burning redness took over the silver in the sky, casting a hazy orange light over everything.

Harry’s steps faltered, hesitantly, when he heard the small but distinct sound of music. It poured out of the forest like a siren’s call. Before Harry knew it he was cutting through the trees, seeking its source. The tune was a just trickle at first, growing louder as Harry got closer, until Harry met its maker. Tom was playing the violin on a small decorative bridge, for an audience of blooming water lilies in the pond below. Slender fingers guided the bow, making the notes rise and fall, as the music ebbed and flowed. Time seemed to be crystalized in a dreamy surrealness. Harry felt the phantom hooks tug painfully at his chest again and wondered what was wrong with himself.

The moment was shattered when silver eyes looked up and the music stopped.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Harry suddenly felt self-conscious of his wild, unkept hair and the sheen of sweat over his body.

“There’s no need to apologize. Did you like it?”

“It was beautiful.” Harry answered truthfully “What’s its name?”

“ _Liebestraum_. Dream of Love. Albus made me learn it.”

A frustrated look crossed Tom’s face. He whipped the bow rather abruptly at the violin, making it scream in a screeching high note.

Harry smiled at the rare display of childishness on the otherwise composed boy, and felt the sudden urge to ruffle his perfectly combed hair and pinch his cheeks.

“It must have been really difficult to practice. I never took Albus for a strict parent.” Harry settled for walking over and petting Tom gently on the head.

“Hardly. That’s not the issue.” The frown in Tom’s brows disappeared the moment Harry touched him, and he dropped the subject. “If you like it, I can play for you often.”

Harry was flattered. He was also painfully reminded of himself at Tom’s age. All he ever wanted was a good friend, a companion. It must be terribly lonely to live in this giant manor with no one around his age.

“I would love it. I’m going to the Quidditch field right now. How about we meet up after I’m done? You can tell me more about it then.”

“Let me stay with you.” Tom said “If you don’t mind me watching you fly.”

“Of course not.” Harry had intended to jog the rest of the way to the field, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say no to Tom.

They walked side by side through the woods, the world enveloped in the golden hues of dawn. Tom shifted his violin to one hand, and gently grasped Harry’s hand in the other. Harry grinned internally, but he couldn’t hide it well and his lips twitched into a smile. He didn’t imagine that the boy with cool eyes and a penchant for dressing in funeral colors would turn out to be so clingy.

“Do you like flying?” He asked Tom, half expecting an answer in the positive like with most boys his age.

“I don’t particularly like broomsticks.”

Harry chuckled. “I was ecstatic when I touched a broom for the first time. I shot up so high into the sky, Dumbledore saw me from his window and spilled his morning tea. Perhaps I can teach you a few tricks.”

“You never had a broom before Hogwarts?”

For everything that he just said, Harry was surprised to get questioned on this part.

“I never knew my parents either.” Harry said quietly “I lived with muggle relatives before I was old enough to move out.”

“What happened to your parents?”

Harry felt the familiar lodge in his chest, but the truth he rarely uttered to anyone came out of his mouth smoothly with Tom.

“They were killed by Dark wizards when I was very little. Some say Grindelward killed them himself.”

Tom glanced up at Harry, an unreadable expression on his face.

“We share more in common than I thought, Harry.” He said. Harry gave his hand a tiny squeeze in comfort.

The Quidditch field, along with the vast expanse of forest around it, were empty this morning, like the world had been reduced to the two of them. Harry urged Tom to take a ride on one of the brooms from the shed. The boy’s dainty nose twitched in annoyance at having to swing his leg over a gnarly twig.

“Come on” Harry laughed “I’d kill to have an entire field in my backyard when I was your age.”

“It can be yours.” Tom said without much of a second thought, as he put down the no doubt extravagantly expensive violin and mounted the broom.

Spoilt brat. Harry thought fondly, not taking what Tom said at all seriously. He reached out gently to adjust Tom’s awkward grip, when the smaller hand shot out and grasped his. Delicate fingers traced the calluses on his palm, roughened by years of gripping different broomsticks for flying and for sweeping the Dursley’s floor. Beyond all reason, Harry shivered. His chest contorted and put his heart in a tight squeeze. He felt as if a cold, slimy snake had wrapped itself around his hand, slithering up his sleeve and roaming down his chest as Tom’s gaze explored his body.

“Is everything alright?” Noticing how Harry went completely rigid, Tom asked innocently.

Woken from his stupor, Harry pulled his hand back quickly. He was filled simultaneously with a defensive anger and the urge to flee. Neither made sense in front of an unpresented child. Both made Harry curse his heightened sensitivities as an Omega.

“Yea.” Harry said, though he sounded not so sure of the answer himself.

******************************

The third day threatened to rain heavily. A thunder storm brewed where rolls of thick grey clouds looking like rows of fish scales covered the sky. Harry woke with a dull ache in the back of his eyes. Blaming it on the shots of Firewhiskey he shared with the other guests at last night’s party, Harry muttered the summoning charm sleepily. His palm held open in the air, waiting, and nothing happened. Green eyes flashed open with a mixture of confusion and alarm. Harry reached down his pillow and grabbed the Holly wand, then pointed it at the dresser:  


“Accio potions!”

He was greeted with complete silence. The only sound in the room was the first splashes of rain pelting against his window. Scrambling out of bed, Harry flung himself at the dresser and pulled open the drawer where his potions should be. Between the bundle of socks and his old DADA textbook signed by all his housemates, the leather bag that held his potions was gone - vanished without a trace. Harry turned the room upside down in a frenzy, pulling out drawers and throwing cushions off the armchairs. Minutes later, standing on the mess of a floor and panting from his exertions, Harry finally admitted to himself that he would find nothing here.

Someone had taken his blockers and suppressants.

Hanging by the last thread of reason over a pit of rage, Harry changed into something slightly more presentable than the threadbare t-shit doubling as a pajama, and burst through the door. He didn’t know how long he had until his dammed up hormones break loose and flood his body with vengeance. It could be next week or it could be the next hour. But he knew that he must find the thief and expose him. Ivan’s seething face jumped to mind. Or perhaps it was the old public relations guy who looked at him lasciviously last night. Harry had played this game with self-entitled Alphas long enough, and he wasn’t going to be bullied into heat. 

“Mione.” Harry knocked on the guest room opposite his.

“Hermione, it’s an emergency. Open the door!”

Under the force of his banging, the door slid open. A distant thunder roared, lighting the room inside in pale whiteness. It was empty without a trace of anyone having been there, not even a single crease in the bedsheets.

Shaken, Harry instinctively turned towards the East Wing, where he knew Dumbledore lived. He walked as fast as he could without running. He must control the panic. But the search felt ridiculously long, especially since he did not know the exact location of the Master bedroom. Actually, Dumbledore could be anywhere. When Harry finally saw a pair of walnut colored doors slight ajar, he dashed forward and pushed it open. 

A large fire was burning inside the fireplace, filling the air with the scent of a sweet, exotic wood and soft crackling sounds. Dumbledore sat in a plush burgundy armchair, scribbling annotations on a book floating before him. Strands of red hair danced behind his head to weave themselves together with shiny trinkets and tiny flowers. Harry was dumbstruck, however, when he laid eyes on the giant serpent circling the armchair. As Harry threw the door open, it reared its giant head and flicked its tongue at his direction, as if tasting him. 

“Ah Harry” Dumbledore beamed “It’s wonderful to see you here, just when I needed a second opinion on these knitting patterns. Which one of these do you think looks better?” 

“The right one.” Harry randomly picked one of the two equally disturbing colorful woolen socks Dumbledore held up to put an end to this line of questioning. “Professor…is that your snake?”

“Please, call me Albus now you’re no longer my student. Her name is Nagini. She’s Tom’s, but she likes to keep me company sometimes, especially when I have a fire burning on a rainy day.”

Harry took a courageous step forward, even though the serpent was large enough to unhinge its jaw and swallow him whole.

“Come, Harry. It appears that something is bothering you, and I don’t think it’s the wretched weather.” Dumbledore motioned to the armchair opposite, smiling as if no troubles that followed Harry would manage to shake him. Harry recently came to the realization that outside of Hogwarts, the Headmaster led a separate life: with a manor, a child, and a pet snake of all things, but at that moment he felt like a student again, seeking refuge in the professor’s shiny office.

“Someone took my blockers and suppressants.” Harry sat down on the heavenly soft cushion and confessed. Suddenly, he realized that the scent of burning wood and honeyed lemon might not be coming from the fireplace after all.

“Do you have any idea who it might be?”

“I…” Harry wanted to be more certain before he started pointing fingers, “I don’t remember everything that happened last night. It’s a bit of a blur - Do you know where Hermione and Viktor went? They weren’t in their room when I checked.”

“I believe they left at the crack of dawn when the party was over, along with the other guests. They’ve taken the carriages.”

Harry had no recollection of that. He couldn’t believe that he drank himself to a blackout. Merlin, he wasn’t a fifth year anymore. Even if he did, he was sure that Hermione wouldn’t have left him behind. Something about all this screamed wrongness.

“Has anyone stayed behind?” Harry reasoned “Assuming an Alpha took my suppressants, they would want to stay - ” To induce a heat. To claim him.

“Only Cedric stayed to study and catalog the plants in the green house, like we had agreed upon. But I doubt he’s the thief you’re looking for.”

Harry shook his head, refusing to even consider Cedric, the most gentle and upright Alpha he knew.

Dumbledore twirled the black gemstone on his ring finger absentmindedly. “I assure you, no one enters or leaves the premises without my knowledge. I’ll have the house elves conduct a thorough search of the grounds. In the meantime, let us ask Madame Pomfrey for some of the school supplies and keep it hushed between us.”

“Thank you.” Harry breathed, rubbing his hand on his trousers self-consciously. He didn’t know where to begin repaying the Headmaster’s kindness over the years. “Sorry I’ve got to stick around for a bit longer.”

“Nonsense. I hope this incident doesn’t make me a terrible host. Please feel free to stay as long as you’d like.” Blue eyes twinkled merrily at him. “Tom would be thrilled to hear the news. Truth to be told, I’ve never seen him so taken up with anyone before. I was shocked to find that you managed to make him mount a broom without the use of hexes.”

Tom. With the utterance of that name a smile tugged at the corner of Harry’s lips. He had shared an entire morning with the boy yesterday, and the memory seemed to glow from the depth of his mind. He began to understand why Dumbledore would adopt a child. He had always longed to be a parent and have a family of his own. Perhaps it would still be attainable without selling himself off to an Alpha.

“He’s actually quite good at flying.” Harry said, in Tom’s defense, “Wonderful with the violin as well.”

Dumbledore chuckled and began scribbling on his scrolls now that the conversation slid into chitchat. “He certainly grows on you. Nothing strange has happened around him, I hope?”

“Strange?” Harry asked, perplexed, like the momentary confusion one feels when waking up from a long dream.

“Tom can be very possessive of what he considers his.”

The fire cackled cozily, but icy sweat threaded down Harry’s back. Fragments of memories flew to the front of his mind. Harry was grinning through the haze of fire whiskeys and fine vintages from the wine cellar. The child in black sat next to him, slender fingers carefully picking the white veins from the flesh of a tangerine. Harry had taken the fruit from the child’s open palms, and felt the sweetness burst between his teeth as he bit down.

“Mine.” A distorted, childish voice whispered, as darkness consumed him.

Harry didn’t know what pathetic excuse he made to get out of the room as quickly as possible. He could barely breathe, like he was still choking on the juice from the slice of tangerine. The walls around him lit up in stark whiteness with each crash of thunder. Harry stumbled though the vast halls like a ghost, the storm chasing at his heels.

Finally, Harry found shelter in the privacy of his room and shut the door behind him with a loud thud. He didn’t hesitate before shoving a hand into his pants, and his shoulders sagged in relief when there wasn't any signs of wetness between his thighs. Despite the heavy weight building inside his belly, his heat had spared him, for now. Sighing, Harry walked towards the bathroom, hoping a cold bath would help delay the inevitable. His pants slipped and pooled around his feet, but he felt too exhausted to bother.

Passing by his bed, Harry suddenly tensed and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. The top of his nightstand was most certainly empty when he left the room this morning. But a bouquet of fresh roses stood there now, red like blood and dripping with raindrops. Harry smashed it against the wall with a panicked and furious blow.

******************************

Harry slept uneasily. He dreamed of the sound of footsteps, getting closer and closer slowly until they stopped by the side his bed. His heat had come for him. Harry startled awake. It was still drizzling outside. Faint light shone grudgingly through the curtains and the world around him dissolved into shades of greyness. There was nothing in his room except furniture and shadows. But for some reason he couldn’t dispel the scent of blood and seawater at the back of his tongue.

Harry kicked the rest of the blanket away and moaned painfully. He felt like his skin was on fire, and the rough fabric of his t-shirt and underwear was killing him. Swallowing hard, Harry’s hand roamed to the tent in his underwear. Green eyes screwed shut, as his body jutted into the warmth of his palm by its own volition, and his lips parted with an unnamed desire that hollowed out his chest. Even though he knew he was alone – made sure of it with the good number of wards on his door, Harry bit into the back of his hand to hold back the noises as he bucked his hips and dug his toes into the soft bedsheet. The muscles on his thighs convulsed rhythmically as a trickle of wet slick dripped down the sun-kissed skin. Then his brows knitted together in a mixture of pain and pleasure when his body protested the rough strokes and demanded more. His eyelashes fluttered with the vivid imagination of an Alpha’s knot deep inside his womb, before his eyes flew open in confusion when he felt a sudden dip in his bed.

Harry looked straight into a pair of grey eyes above his head. Tom, dressed impeccably in button down white shirt, sat by the head of his bed and looked at him with an almost analytical curiosity.

Harry was completely frozen. It must be a sleep paralysis induced nightmare. Nothing but _burning desire_ passed through Harry’s mind, until Tom’s cool, tentative touch on his skin stung him awake. Rage fed into the pyre blazing through his body. He slapped Tom right across the face with so much force the boy’s lip bloodied.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Harry’s voice trembled along with his hands.

When Tom turned to look at him, his eyes glimmered eerily. He swiped the fat drop of blood on his lip away with his thumb. The tiny hooks in Harry heart tugged viciously, threatened to shred him apart, and the Omega could only watch as Tom’s thumb reached out for his cheek. Green eyes widened as black irises blew open. Harry felt the blood on his cheek with the intensity of a branding, and the metallic scent flooded his lungs with each inhale.

“I know full well what I’m doing.” Tom said, caressing Harry’s cheek gently “I know we’re meant to be bonded the moment I saw you.”

“That’s - ” ridiculous.

“You’ve imprinted on me.” Tom clarified. A flurry of colors, sounds and smells assaulted Harry. He recalled every single detail from when the boy walked out of the garden that afternoon, down to every shuffling of orange trees leaves and soft clattering of silverware. His heart thumped from an inexplicable rush of adrenaline. He had smelled blood then. The world had spun to a stop around them and Harry felt feverish in the midsummer sun. But he always thought so called imprints were just overblown stories told by Witch Weekly. He never imagined it would happen to him. Certainly not with a mere child, Dumbledore’s adopted son –

“No.” Harry shook his head, horrified. He didn’t notice that Tom slid a long, bone white stick out of his pocket.

“Levicorpus.”

Invisible hands gripped Harry by the ankles and flung. The world before him swam as he was hung upside down inches above his pillow, bare legs spread and shivering in the night air.

“I don’t like ‘No’s, Harry.” Tom stood on the bed, peering down at him coldly. Grey eyes studied him, slithering down his body from the wet marks on his cotton underwear, the still bulging tent despite his futile attempts at hiding it, to his face flushed crimson from humiliation and the rush of blood to the head.

Harry shook violently like a fish out of water. He opened his mouth to protest but almost chocked on the hoarseness of his own voice. Tom’s perfectly shaped brows frowned in displeasure. Tom peeled away his cotton white t-shirt, letting it drop under the force of gravity and cover his face like a lampshade, and jabbed the tip of his wand into his exposed belly.

Harry yelped from the sudden pain. “Stop fighting.” Tom said, drawing little circles around his navel. Then the tip of the cool, hard wood traveled up, resting near the last layer of fabric between his legs. Only a flick of the wrist stood between Harry and fully displaying himself in the open.

“Please don’t...Please.” Harry breathed into the white fabric over his mouth, feeling something shatter inside of him. The alien tightness in his chest brought him to the brink of tears. All of anger fled his body, displaced by icy tendrils of fear. The emotions coursing through his veins threatened to overflow his senses, and he swelled with so much longing it physically hurt. It make him want to submit to his Alpha, because that was how it saw the child before him. It would sway its hips shamelessly and cry prettily, begging his Alpha to grace him with the slightest touch or a kiss. Its power frightened Harry more than anything Tom could do.

Tom shushed to quiet his incoherent pleads and placed a hand on his hip to steady him. The delicate fingers sent an electric wave throughout his body where they touched him, and Harry begged for more.

“Better.” Tom said gently. The hand trailed down his body leaving ghost touches, and paying special attention to the swollen gland by his neck with gentle rubs.

Harry’s world exploded and nothing else matter but his AlphaAlphaAlphaAlphaAlpha

The boy rewarded him by touching the bulge in his underwear. Tom explored the place between his legs as if familiarizing himself with a new piece of territory. Harry whimpered pathetically, jutting into the touch midair. When the boy’s cool hands slipped inside and squeezed experimentally, Harry came with his eyes rolled back and tears rolling into his hair.

The boy had left after wiping his hand on Harry’s t-shirt, looking self-satisfied and slightly disgusted. Harry was released from the spell and fell into a heap on the bed. He fell into a coma like sleep almost immediately. He woke when the first rays of orange sunlight hit him. Harry dragged himself to the edge of the bed and heaved into the rich Persian carpet. His stomach failed to give up anything. In fact, he felt like he could die from thirst the next second.

Shivering, Harry peeled away the sweat stained sheets and the t-shirt stuck to his body, and left them in a heap by the foot of his bed. He couldn’t think about what happened last night. He didn’t want to think about what it meant, what people would think, what _Dumbledore_ would think. So he curled up on the bare mattress and refused to think, and remained in that state, like every particle in his body had been frozen. Harry watched numbly as the slit of sunlight from the parted curtains traveled from his pillow to the edge of his bed.

Finally, the desire to stay alive dragged him out of bed and into the bathroom. Harry turned on the faucet and gulped down mouthfuls of water until his stomach hurt. In the mirror, a familiar looking stranger stared at him. The dried blood marked his cheek like a dark red scab. Startled, Harry scrubbed it away fiercely until his cheek turned red as a shrimp. Pieces of dried blood disappeared swirling down the drain, but Harry couldn’t wash away the mark over his body, as if the name Tom Riddle was tattooed into his skin. Even though Tom didn’t bite him – thank Merlin, and Tom was surely too young to knot him – the very thought turned his stomach acidic, Harry knew he was marked in no uncertain way. “Meant to be bonded.” The words rang in his ears, sending shivers down his spine.

The faint scent of blood and salt thickened. Harry curled into himself, cursing, when a fresh wave of warmth spread from his belly. He couldn’t breathe without sucking in the lingering pheromones Tom left behind. He must escape this air before his next wave of heat.

Harry packed as fast as his hands allowed him, and wrapped himself in a long sleeved robe. When he opened the door, an irrational fear that he would find Tom standing outside gripped his heart. But the hallway was empty. Harry slipped quietly through the deep bowels of the manor, attacked by a whirlwind of residual scents over every surface and piece of furniture. The sun outside was piercingly bright. Harry ran over grass soft as duvet. Sweat trickled down his neck and simmered inside the too thick robe, but Harry refused to take it off.

The road to the carriages seemed to stretch on forever. By the side of large, glass domed greenhouse, Harry picked up a fresh smell of warm leather and tender wool and his knees buckled. It reminded him of the Gryffindor common room, of home. The familiar warmth lulled his steps to a stop. Harry turned and locked eyes with Cedric, who started running towards him with an appalled and deeply concerned look on his face.

“What happened, Harry?” Cedric squeezed Harry’s shoulders firmly “Who did this to you?”

Harry’s eyes watered. He sensed the protective anger that boiled inside Cedric, stimulating the Alpha’s already thickening pheromones.

“Help me.” Harry dropped his luggage and threw himself into the Alpha’s arms like his life depended on it. He felt the Alpha go rigid under him completely.

“Let’s get you to Dumbledore…” Cedric rasped, voice hoarse from desire.

“No.” Harry clung to his ticket out of this endless nightmare. “Mark me, knot me, Cedric, please.”

The next second, a hot mouth pressed over his and sucked hungrily at his lips. Cedric’s hand buried deep inside his hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. A tangle of limbs dragged Harry into the direction of the greenhouse. They pushed through the glass doors, leaving a trail of wrecked flower pots in their path, and Harry felt his back pushed firmly against the rough trunk of a tree. Their bodies fitted seamlessly together and Harry’s insides convulsed with need at the shape of the Alpha’s rock hardness pressed against his belly.

Suddenly, Cedric stopped sucking at the sensitive spot over his neck and Harry whimpered in protest. “Harry” The Alpha bit out with every ounce of self-control, fearful as if he was the one taking advantage of the other’s situation. “Do you really want this?”

“Yes” Harry whined, wriggling out of his robe to show that he was completely naked underneath.

Cedric’s handsome features distorted with desire as he let out a guttural growl. He heaved Harry up and spread him over a nearby desk, so that Harry’s legs draped directly over his shoulders. Harry heard the sound of belt unbuckling and felt the Alpha’s hot desire push against his already slick and aching entrance. A brief moment of searing pain cut off his moans.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, Harry.” The hot breath of Cedric’s confession puffed against his neck. Harry felt cold, damning shame for using one of his best friends this way. But it was soon flushed out of his brain by waves of pleasure washing over his body. Harry felt a blissful fullness as he rocked against the Alpha, as a cloying scent of blood formed at the back of his throat.

The distinctive bloody taste had come back to haunt him. Green eyes roamed over the lush greenhouse in panic, expecting to find the boy lurking somewhere. He stilled hadn't figured out how the boy managed to materialize quietly by his bed. But there were no one else in here with them. The shiny glass panels all around them reflected back images of him and Cedric with their limbs entertwined. Yet the faint metallic smell lingered. As his heart sank with dread, his body sang with pleasure from the electrifying scent of _Tom_.

“Look at me.” Cedric said. Harry focused desperately into those chocolate colored eyes, as if that would stop his thoughts from drifting to a certain boy who teased him with the fervor of dissecting small animals.

That was when Harry caught a glimpse of the golden letter opener floating over Cedric’s head. The sharp blade glimmered under the sunlight. He clawed into Cedric’s back as a blood curdling scream lodged in his throat. The Invisibility Cloak flowed away like water, revealing the boy underneath. Harry knew the Cloak, from the tales his Godfather told him, after it was taken from his family through murder. Grunting from the sudden tightening of Harry’s insides, Cedric moaned and pounded more forcefully. Grey eyes looked down with icy disdain. Then Tom gripped the back of Cedric’s neck with one hand and slit his throat cleanly with the letter opener in the other.

Red. Harry’s eyes shut instinctively before the blood hit them. It splurged out of the gash in Cedric’s neck on top of him and flooded his nose and mouth. He could taste nothing except the sickening scent of blood.

“Cedric..” Harry tried to put pressure over the wound to stop the bleeding, but his hands kept slipping from the sliminess everywhere. Ceric stared at him with terrifying bloodshot eyes, mouth foaming with blood and throat gurgling for oxygen. Another wave of pleasure shot through Harry’s body when he forcefully pulled himself off of the Alpha’s still hard cock. Harry jumped off the desk, knees barely holding upright from the shivering. Stark naked and soaked in blood, Harry pushed past the boy killer and ran outside. His luggage and wand sat forgotten over the velvety grass.

Harry racked his brain for all the healing spells he knew. Barely seeing through the redness, he almost ran head straight into a sparkling light blue robe. Looking up, a glimmer of hope lit up inside him at the sight of Dumbledore. “Help Cedric.” Harry tripped over his ankle and fell, but he held on to the professor’s sleeve tightly “It’s not me, I swear. You must save him.”

“Slow down, Harry.” Dumbledore said soothingly.

Harry took in a shaky breath and gathered himself back together. That was when he noticed the man in a dark trench coat standing next to his professor. The fierce scent of raw flames and sharp metal invaded his senses and momentarily overwhelmed the ever present taste of blood. A pair of mismatched eyes, one dark like the ocean tides, the other vibrant like molten gold, studied the heap of bloody mess named Harry sprawled on the ground.

“You are G..Grindelward.” Harry said. Any wizard could recognize that face plastered across newspaper front pages all over Europe, worshipped by some, condemned by others, and feared by all.

“And you are the Potter boy Albus talks of so often.” The Dark wizard said. “What makes you so deserving of the special attention, I wonder?”

“Harry has a very kind heart. And I mentioned him only twice.” Dumbledore said mildly “Now, I believe Cedric is in dire need of our attention.”

Harry wasn't able to form a response when the amount of shock accumulated past a certain threshold and he passed out over the lawn.

******************************

In the end, Dumbledore cleaned up the mess. The professor healed Cedric’s wounds and wiped his memories for the last hour, mostly for the young Alpha’s own good. Meanwhile, Grindelward watched, curious how two naked teenagers ended up in their greenhouse after he was only gone for four days. The elves took Harry under their care and cleaned him up with a fresh dose of blockers and suppressants. The doors to a professional Quidditch career that Dumbledore opened for him remained open, of course, if Harry decide to use them. Finally, pertaining to Tom, both Grindelward and Dumbledore agreed that the boy must be punished severely for attempted murder and for "borrowing" the Invisibility Cloak.

“Tom to D6” Grindelward said lazily.

With a dark expression over his face, a miniature little Tom walked over the chessboard wielding a broadsword the length of a needle. Dumbledore’s rook defended its square valiantly, but Tom deflected its attacks and hacked the piece into halves. Tom had been transfigured into a live wizard chess piece by Dumbledore for the duration of a month, before he starts Hogwarts. But his real punishment was to be barred from seeking Harry out, ever.

The red haired man smiled, tapping his finger lightly over the desk before announcing his next move. Tom knew it didn’t matter which side wins, he would most certainly get rolled over by a queen or a bishop sooner or later. But Tom wasn’t concerned in the slightest. He had no need to seek Harry out, because he knew eventually Harry would be his. And he look forward to the day the Omega comes willingly to him.


End file.
